Birthday Blunders
by Rose from the Dark
Summary: Bakura forgets Ryou's birthday and attempts to bake him a cake to make up for it. But things don't go exactly as planned... Tendershipping with some implied Bronze and Puzzle! Oneshot for CrimsonEyes27 - Happy Birthday!


**I wrote this little one-shot for my super-special-awesome sister's birthday today so... Happy Birthday CrimsonEyes27! I hope you like your present :D**

**Also, I hope anyone else that happens to click the link enjoys this too. I know I enjoyed writing it (in the library, smiling to myself the entire time 'cause I'm just that cool XD).**

**EDIT: So, my fantabulous sister, for whom I wrote this, decided to draw fanart for this story! Check it out and leave a comment, if you'd like at: **

**mydearassassin(dot)deviantart(dot)com/gallery/#/d4nxthv**

**Just replace the (dots) with actual periods and the link should work, or check out the link to her DeviantArt alias, MyDearAssassin, in my profile!  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh  
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><p><strong>Birthday Blunders<strong>

Bakura didn't know why he was doing this. He _never_ set foot in the kitchen unless it was to steal some sort of freshly baked good that one of the hikaris had so naively left to cool without any supervision whatsoever, and then tell Malik, who would consequently blather to everyone, that Mariku did it.

But that wasn't the case today.

"_Do you know what today is?" _Ryou had asked Bakura excitedly at some ungodly hour of the morning. Bakura didn't know why Ryou bothered to go to school anyway. First they made you get up before the sun, and then they expelled you for setting fire to the teacher's hair. The system was flawed, in Bakura's opinion of the one day he had accompanied Ryou to that Ra-forsaken place.

"_No,"_ Bakura had muttered into his pillow, upset at being woken up, _"And I don't bloody care."_

"_Oh…"_ Ryou had whispered in a voice unmistakably on the verge of tears. And by the time Bakura had forced himself out of bed to try to rectify whatever it was he had managed to do wrong at six-_freaking_-a.m. Ryou had already gone downstairs and was headed for the door.

"_Ryou!" _Bakura had growled from the second floor landing but Ryou either ignored or didn't hear him. Bakura guessed the latter. The smaller white-haired teen was too nice for his own good.

Bakura had been about to stomp down the stairs after his pale lover – and be annoyed with himself for caring so much with every damn step – when another voice entered the scene.

"_Happy birthday, Ryou!"_ squealed a slightly squeaky voice Bakura recognized as Yugi's.

"_Thanks_," said Ryou with a slight sniff and then they had walked together out of the door.

And that was why Bakura was in the kitchen. He had forgotten Ryou's birthday.

Since Ryou had left for school and Bakura had realized the error of his ways, he had bribed Malik – who was, of course, skipping – to find him a cake recipe online. Bakura had never quite gotten the hang of all that Ra-damned technology and since when did Tomb Robbers need to know how to use computers anyway?

"_Since they forget their boyfriend's birthday," _Malik had pointed out, thus earning him a thwack on the side of the head with the rolled up papers of the newly printed recipe. Bakura had been quite pleased with the way that Malik had sulked off after that and had made his way to the kitchen quite contentedly.

But now that he was here, he was far less content. Bakura had never baked anything in his life and when Ryou had baked, Bakura had spent far more time pretending that he didn't care than actually paying attention.

Well, that wasn't completely true. He _had _paid attention to some things. Like the smears of flour that Ryou would get on his cheeks and hair that were only a few shades lighter than his natural complexion. Bakura would never admit that he looked Ra-damned adorable. He did, however, admit that Ryou looked Ra-damned _hot_ in the frilled white apron he would tie around his waist – if only to draw that delectable pink blush to the smaller teen's cheeks.

_The apron…_ thought Bakura. Ryou always wore it while cooking. _Always_. It must be integral to the whole baking process, right? Like the millennium item of cookies, reasoned Bakura, as he fetched the frilly thing and tied it around his waist.

It was at that moment that he decided he would banish to the Shadow Realm _anyone _that walked into the kitchen henceforth and saw him doing this. Bakura did not care about people's birthdays – even Ryou's. Bakura did not bake. And Bakura _definitely_ did not wear frilly aprons.

That's what he kept telling himself, at least, as he began to gather the ingredients and supplies to make Ryou's birthday cake.

**o-o-o**

Bakura had been so intent on trying to figure out how to "beat" an egg – did one use a bat, or just his own fist? - that he didn't hear his first visitor enter the kitchen.

"What in the name of Ra did you do to our kitchen?" asked a voice that Bakura hated.

"Get the hell out of here, Pharaoh," growled Bakura, not even turning around. Although his eyes did wander over the mess he had made as he attempted to measure out ingredients. But it wasn't _his _fault all those measuring cups were just too damn small.

"What are you doing?" asked the Pharaoh, obnoxiously.

"What the bloody hell does it look like I'm doing?" yelled Bakura, whirling on him, giving up on the eggs.

The Pharaoh just shrugged. "Be careful," he said warily, "I think there's shadow magic possessing some of the appliances."

Bakura just rolled his eyes and turned back towards his bowl filled with butter and sugar, reaching out to flip the switch to turn on the mixer. "How many times do they have to tell you Pharaoh? Things here run on electricity, not-"

"DUCK!" yelled the Pharaoh, and Bakura knew the idiotic Egyptian well enough to know that he should comply. But not without a muttered curse under his breath. He knew all too well where this was going.

Bakura watched with a helpless scowl as the shadow magic flew from the Pharaoh's hand and over his head to the electronic mixer. Consequently banishing it to the Shadow Realm. It and... his measured ingredients! It had taken his forever to figure out that those stupid little numbers were not referring to the number of crystals of sugar…

Bakura turned slowly back towards the Pharaoh, seething with anger. Anger that the Egyptian took no notice of. "You're welcome," had said smugly, arms folded neatly over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" yelled Bakura. And the Pharaoh, surprisingly, complied.

The miniature explosion that ensued when the open bag of sugar Bakura threw hit the wall was not nearly as satisfying as it could have been if it had hit its intended target of the Pharaoh's head.

**o-o-o**

Bakura was still in a scathing mood as he re-measured and re-mixed the ingredients, by hand this time, as his mixer was currently lost to the void of the Shadow Realm. Needless to say, he was in no mood for his next visitor, either.

Especially since the first thing his next visitor said upon entering the kitchen was, "Are you wearing a dress?" And then consequently burst into side-splitting laughter.

"Shut up, Malik," said Bakura in a voice that implied that any further talking may result in the speaker's head being separated from his body. Preferably by use of a machete, but Bakura wasn't picky. The steak knives in the drawer to the left would perfectly well, too.

"I mean," continued the blonde, completely ignoring Bakura's command, "It has frills. _Frills_! You look like a freaking girl!"

Bakura scowled momentarily before regaining his composure and turning towards the tan teen. "Says the one wearing a belly shirt."

"Hey!" protested Malik, "You can't cover abs like these up! Hotness such as mine should be shared with the world. Besides, babes dig the six-pack."

"Babe?" echoed Bakura with a smirk, "I didn't think Mariku would allow such an effeminate pet name. I mean, he would for _you_, maybe, because, let's face it, we all know who tops when you two fu-"

"We are _not_ together!" cut in Malik, fiery red blush dusting his tan cheeks.

"So that's the sound of you two _not_ together that Ryou and I can hear through the wall at night?" asked Bakura, smirk betraying any feigned innocence in his voice.

Malik only managed to splutter for a few moments after that statement. Bakura had been just about to turn back around and return to his cooking when Malik finally managed to choke out, "You're just jealous because you know you're not getting any because you forgot Ryou's birthd-"

The satisfaction Bakura felt at the sound of the splat as the lobbed egg cracked on Malik's head was only rivaled by the satisfaction he felt at the red color the Egyptian teen's face had taken on. Bakura was sure that if Malik blushed any harder the egg – now dripping down through his hair and on to his face – would start to fry.

Bakura had briefly considered testing his theory by throwing another egg, but Malik had ducked from the room, muttering a string of curses under his breath, before Bakura had the chance to do so.

**o-o-o**

Throwing the egg at Malik had brightened Bakura's mood so significantly that he didn't even mind all that much when the third visitor made his way into the kitchen.

"What do you want, Mariku?" asked Bakura a little wearily as he mixed all the ingredients into one bowl.

"I saw what you did to Malik," said Mariku in that gruff voice of his and Bakura couldn't help but tense up at bit. Although Malik seemed to think it a secret, there was no denying that he and Mariku were together and as such Bakura could only assume that Mariku felt some sort of protective feelings over Malik. Which meant that there was a very good chance that Mariku was here to beat him up.

It wasn't that Bakura was afraid of Mariku per se, but Mariku was at least a head taller than him and a good deal larger. Let's just say if Mariku decided to beat Bakura to a pulp, the paler teen would probably end up similar to those eggs Bakura had beat up himself, earlier.

Bakura gulped, back still towards Mariku as he stirred the mixture and said in what assumed sounded like an uncaring voice, "Yeah?"

"Malik is pissed," Mariku said and Bakura set his mixing bowl down, far from the edge of the counter. The least he could do was save all of his hard work.

Bakura tensed as he heard Mariku approached, waiting for the moment of truth.

But the pain never came. Instead, Mariku said in an almost giddy voice, "Where are the eggs. I want in."

Bakura couldn't help but turn on the larger Egyptian as he said this, somehow, not as surprised as he should have been. He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "In the fridge," said Bakura.

Mariku grinned and nodded, looking like a kid that just found out that Christmas came early. Or like a sadistic Egyptian that found an excellent way to torture his boyfriend. They were the same for Mariku, really.

"You're welcome," Bakura said to the air as Mariku dashed from the kitchen, still grinning, carton of eggs in hand.

**o-o-o**

Bakura managed to finish the cake in peace. Well, relative peace. For a long while the shouts of Malik and the maniacal laughter of Mariku rang throughout the house, only stopping when Malik rushed out the front doors, muttering something about having to get to school. Bakura grinned, happy he could aid in something so apt to pissing Malik off that the smaller blonde would actually take refuge by going to school.

What he was not so pleased about was how the cake turned out. Bakura had stuck the gloopy mixture in the oven, just like the recipe said. But, when nothing seemed to be happening, he turned the oven up to the highest setting, hoping that that would help. And maybe it would have, if Bakura had stayed to watch the cake bake.

But, as it was, he noticed the Pharaoh leaving the house through the front doors and Bakura just couldn't miss the opportunity to hide all of Malik's electronic devices around the Pharaoh's room. It was the perfect prank that killed two birds with one stone. The Pharaoh would freak out at finding so much shadow magic had infested his room and Malik would freak because all of his belongings had been banished to the Shadow Realm. It was a win, win. For Bakura, at least.

But, by the time Bakura returned to the kitchen, an alarming amount of smoke was wafting from the oven. And when he opened the oven door, a small fire could be seen burning where the cake had been. Now Bakura didn't really have a problem with fire, he rather liked it, but Ryou wasn't exactly fond of having the sprinkler system come on and soak all of his things, so Bakura dutifully fetched the fire extinguisher (they kept multiple all around the house, something the hikaris thought necessary if they were to leave their yamis at home alone) and put the fire out.

When Bakura was finally able to dislodge the pan from the small heap of white fluff residue of the fire extinguisher, there was nothing left inside but a smoldering, blackened mound.

Bakura's cake was a disaster and Ryou would be home any minute.

Bakura chucked the cake pan moodily at the wall – leaving a sizable dent – and sunk to the floor, sitting among the mounds of spilt ingredients and white residue from the fire extinguisher. And, for some reason that Bakura couldn't really fathom, all his thoughts seemed to revolve around the fact that he was _sad_ that he couldn't make Ryou a proper birthday cake. Well, that and, _the bloody apron didn't even help…_

Bakura's thoughts were still spiraling in this direction when Ryou, Yugi, and Malik returned home from school. Bakura watched from his spot on the floor as the door to the kitchen opened to reveal Ryou and Yugi. He watched as both of their eyes went wide at the mess and steeled himself for a shrill reprimand from both.

But, surprisingly, the reprimand never came. Yugi just giggled and skipped off, most likely to find the Pharaoh, and Ryou smiled. Neat, clean little Ryou actually _smiled _in the face of such a mess. Bakura just scowled and looked away from the small, pale teen in the doorway, sure that the smile probably had nothing to do with him and the mess he made, and not wanting to see Ryou smile if it were caused by someone else.

"Malik actually showed up to school, today," said Ryou walking closer and kneeling on the floor between Bakura's outspread legs. Bakura wasn't sure why Ryou was telling him this, but didn't particularly care to find out.

He remained silent and Ryou continued with a small giggle, "He was covered in egg yolk and once we got him to calm down enough he mentioned that you were making a cake for me."

"I did," said Bakura listlessly before adding in a scathing tone, "It's that burnt pile of crap in the corner."

Bakura was almost sure Ryou would leave after that. Not only did Bakura ruin the cake, he also described it with what Ryou would call "vulgar language." The Tomb Robber was digging a grave for himself, but at the moment, sitting on the floor in a frilly apron covered in flour and butter and Ra knows what else, he couldn't really bring himself to care.

That's when Ryou did something that surprised him. He leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to Bakura's cheek, before pulling back with a blush and a quiet, "Thank you, 'Kura."

Bakura looked up at him, a little incredulously. "But I ruined your cake," he said.

"I know," said Ryou, "But it's the thought that counts."

Bakura thought that that was probably the stupidest thing he had ever heard, but didn't question it. Instead, he leaned forward and growled into Ryou's ear, "So is there anything else you want for your birthday?" He very mush enjoyed the way Ryou's breath hitched as Bakura reached out his tongue to lick at the shell of the boy's pale ear.

He also enjoyed the way he could feel Ryou's pulse pound in his neck as Bakura nuzzled against it, fully intent on marking that lusciously pale skin with a hickey. But before Bakura could make his move, Ryou managed to stammer out a suggestion, "W-well, there is s-something I would like to do…"

"Yes?" breathed Bakura, running his tongue along the soft skin stretched over the smaller teen's collar bone.

Ryou surprised Bakura again by leaning back, meeting Bakura's eye and saying in a slightly confident voice, "I would like to go mini-golfing." And when Bakura just stared he added with a slight stammer, "And m-maybe get ice cream afterwards…" He trailed off.

Bakura stared incredulously for a moment more. Bakura was pretty sure he did _not_ mini-golf, just as much as he did _not _bake. But it _was_ Ryou's birthday and he _did_ look damn cute looking up at him with those big puppy-eyes. Bakura sighed. "Whatever you want, birthday boy."

Bakura watched as Ryou's face lit up as he squealed with delight. "Thanks, 'Kura," he said leaning forward and hugging him tightly around his midsection.

Bakura mentally corrected himself about the whole 'it's the thought that counts thing' being the stupidest thing he had ever heard. Mini-golfing definitely took the cake on that one. But Ryou was so happy that there was no way that Bakura could protest. Besides, he was back on good terms with his boyfriend and Malik, Bakura thought with a smirk, would probably not be the only one getting some tonight.

And Bakura actually, full-out, grinned.

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><p><strong>The end! Or is it? I didn't really intend for this to be a prequel to my other BakuraRyou story 18 Holes of Tendershipping, but the reference just fit so well, I couldn't resist. Although the story doesn't line up exactly, hmm... Ah, make of it what you will**.

**Anyway, CrimsonEyes27, I hope this birthday present took the cake (and ate it too!). Happy Birthday!**

**- Rose from the Dark**


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